


so let's be sinners to be saints

by bri_notthecheese



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post 2x08 "The Sins of the Father", or well mostly post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_notthecheese/pseuds/bri_notthecheese
Summary: Arthur and Merlin have returned from the meeting with Morgause and Arthur very nearly killed his father. Merlin's words had stayed his hand, but as he rests in contemplation, Arthur can't help but feel as if his gut knew the truth all along.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 346





	so let's be sinners to be saints

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amcdanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amcdanie/gifts).



> Happy Birthday my darling!!! ^_^ I know I had promised you a Merlin fic and I would be remiss if I didn't write you one for your ship! <3 <3 <3
> 
> fic title inspired by "Sinners" by Lauren Aquilina

_“You’re nothing but a hypocrite, and a liar!”_

Arthur’s words echo around his head even though the confrontation with his father had been hours ago. He leans against his window as he replays the encounter once more. His body is exhausted. They’d ridden hard on the way back to Camelot, cutting the three-day journey into a day and a half and Arthur had barely slept. His righteous anger had fueled him but now all he feels is numbness. There was no lie in his father’s eyes and Merlin’s words made sense and yet…

Why does it feel like his gut is telling him he knows the truth?

The fire crackles and burns in the hearth, casting the room in a somber light. He doesn’t think he’ll be sleeping much tonight.

The door opens and Merlin walks in without a word. Arthur can feel his servant’s eyes on him but his own don’t leave the horizon. Merlin moves about the room, collecting dirty pieces of armor to be cleaned. The silence would normally be welcome for his racing thoughts, but Arthur’s often found that he hates when Merlin is quiet. It means something isn’t quite right.

Merlin had barely said a word on the return journey. Ever the chatterbox even when Arthur’s mood was sour, Merlin had been lost in thought and if Arthur didn’t know better, he’d say Merlin held a quiet rage of his own. He’d barely noticed at the time, too consumed with his own heartbreak, but when left alone to contemplate it, it is rather unlike Merlin to keep silent. Merlin knew what he was planning—he must’ve had some idea at least. Half the time Merlin seems to know him better than he knows himself. If he truly didn’t believe Morgause’s tale, why not dissuade him from such a violent confrontation with his father?

Could her words actually be true?

Arthur doesn’t know.

Merlin isn’t the wisest—of course—but Arthur can always trust him to be honest.

“Did you mean what you said?”

True to form, Merlin startles from the sudden break in silence and immediately drops every piece of armor he was carrying. Arthur sighs despite himself and Merlin at least has the decency to look apologetic. The idiot.

“I’m sorry?”

“Earlier. With my father, about Morgause. Did you really believe it was a lie?”

Merlin opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out. It opens and closes a few more times before he averts his eyes completely. “You don’t think it was?”

Deflecting. More and more lately, Arthur’s noticed that Merlin redirects a lot of his own questions back at him. He doesn't believe Merlin knows he’s caught on, but it’s frustrating. Most people do that to him since he’s the prince and all, but for whatever reason, it hurts when Merlin does it. He’s not sure why. Does Merlin really believe him that stupid that he wouldn’t notice?

“I’m asking you.”

Merlin remains quiet for a moment and pretends to be focused on his task of placing each piece of armor back on the table.

“Merlin, you’re about the only person I can trust at this point. Clearly you aren’t sure of your own words anymore—you never shut up otherwise.”

Merlin shrugs dramatically as if he’s trying to shake the accusation through his fidgeting.

“So what is it then? You didn’t want me to kill my father? Is that why you stepped in?”

“You would never have forgiven yourself if you had, no matter what his crimes were.”

“Even if his death would prevent more lives from being lost, and give justice to those who have been murdered for practicing an art he himself used—if Morgause is to be believed?”

“You being the one to do it would not have helped.” Merlin is earnest in this and Arthur’s relieved to see that fiery spark back behind his eyes. “Spilling your father’s blood would not be the way to start your rule as king. You’re a good person, Arthur. Doing that would have changed you.”

Arthur can’t help but be taken aback. Merlin’s moved closer and while he’s seen Merlin passionate in his words before, this feels more personal. He’d never be caught dead calling them friends out loud, but they’ve been through a lot together and somewhere along the way his manservant’s opinion of him has become one of the most valued.

“Your time will come, Arthur.” Merlin’s quiet now, only speaking loud enough for the two of them. “And then you will be a great king.”

“How do you know?” It feels childish falling from his lips.

“I just do.” Merlin catches his eye and Arthur notices the impish glint a bit too late before, “But when do I know anything? I’m an idiot, so you’ll probably actually be pretty terrible.”

Arthur rolls his eyes but can’t fight the hint of a smile as the tension is dispersed from whatever moment _that_ was. He fixates on the windowpane, mentally needing some air. The room’s gotten a bit warm.

“So you do believe her then?”

“I believe there may be some truth in Morgause’s words.” Merlin’s angling away and Arthur can’t shake the need to turn him back around. He’s keeping something from him. “But there are always people looking to exploit the throne of Camelot.”

The words sink in and Merlin still won’t face him. Is it this new knowledge? Is he afraid of him now? Rage burns low in his belly at the likelihood of Morgause’s words being true, but for now it’s been subdued. He understands Merlin’s words. He would like to think Merlin has his best interests at heart by staying his hand. But there’s more to it. He can feel it.

He remembers their conversation in the woods on the way to find Morgause. It wasn’t often he found out about Merlin himself or his history, and he secretly treasured any small piece of knowledge.

“What would you do? If you found out your mother had done something like that to your father?”

Merlin stops and for a few moments, Arthur wonders if perhaps he’s gone too far. He’s shaking his head slightly as if completely denying the idea. Arthur belatedly realizes that perhaps the question is ridiculous; he’s met Hunith. She’s not at all like the ever-vigilant King of Camelot, but perhaps if pushed…? Regardless, Arthur doesn't want to feel alone in his contemplation.

“I don’t know what I’d do. It’s hard to think…my mother…” Merlin trails off as if searching for words. Arthur’s about to switch the subject, maybe ease the tension once again, but then Merlin locks eyes with him and Arthur can’t look away. “I think I’d feel just as angry as you do. And heartbroken that someone I trusted that much could do such a thing.”

Arthur’s breath is chased from his lungs as he feels the intensity of the solidarity Merlin is showing him. His blue eyes hold him in his gaze and it’s only when Merlin looks away that Arthur feels he can breathe properly again.

“But I don’t think I could forgive myself if I killed her. And I don’t want that happening to you.”

Arthur nods, agreeing with his words. “I want to be a better king than my father. I know that. He’s worked hard but I can see his shortcomings, and now that this has come to light…” He takes a deep breath, somehow nervous to confess this even if it’s just Merlin. “I want a land where magic doesn’t necessarily have to be feared. Studied, perhaps, and given caution of course. But for those born of or with magic…well, it isn’t their fault, is it?”

Arthur’s highly aware at how still Merlin’s become and his stomach feels as if a pit has opened up within it. He knows it was radical when he spoke it, but Merlin hadn’t protested when he’d suggested the idea before. Maybe he’d been in shock and now he’s simply trying to gloss over the fact that he thinks it’s a terrible idea?

“Or not, I mean, there are a lot of variables—”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

“Do you?” Merlin refuses to move. “Magic is something most seem to fear. It might not be something the people can get behind.”

“You’d encourage them.”

Words of confidence yet he isn’t looking him in the eye anymore. Actually, he’s barely looking at him at all. As if he’s fighting himself simply to stay there.

It breaks Arthur’s heart.

“Do you fear me now, Merlin?”

It’s quick and Merlin’s head snapping up is just as fast. “What? No—”

“I’m born of magic. Probably. That doesn’t scare you?”

“No. No, no, not in the slightest. Being born of magic isn’t a bad thing.”

He’s earnest. Arthur gives him that. But there’s still something behind his eyes. Something he doesn't want Arthur to see.

“I suppose you did already have one friend with magic.” Merlin looks away again and Arthur doesn’t understand the strange pang of jealousy that follows. “So it’s nothing new for you.”

“No.”

“It must’ve been lonely for him sometimes.”

“…Yes.”

Arthur clicks his tongue. He can’t stand this anymore. If Merlin is used to this, then why is he so far away? Arthur hates that his mind is filled with wanting Merlin to cross the vast-feeling space between them and comfort him somehow. _Show_ him he’s not alone. Not just stand there acting like an idiot when Arthur is clearly hurting.

“How did he handle it?” Arthur doesn’t want advice. Not really.

Merlin _finally_ meets his eyes and there’s something new in them that Arthur isn’t sure what to make of. “Not well, at first. It was lonely. Knowing you have to live a lie to everyone around you.”

Arthur swallows, accepting that _yes,_ this isn’t information that could be spread.

“At least, not until you find someone you can trust. Someone you care about. That shows you it’s worth the risk.”

Merlin’s gotten so close; Arthur isn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed him moving closer. He’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame. An inexplicable pull that he doesn't know if he could’ve knocked away even if he wanted to. He wants him closer, but suddenly it feels like it’s too much.

“You aren’t alone.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Merlin, but—”

Merlin’s hand is on fire.

Merlin spoke words in a language Arthur had never heard before and his eyes glowed and now his hand holds a flame.

Merlin…

Merlin has magic.

Several thoughts collide at once. The ball of light he followed to find that flower so long ago. The snakes appearing on Valiant’s shield without being summoned. Merlin’s overt concern for that druid boy. The witch finder’s accusations against Merlin. The wind storm back in Ealdor.

It wasn’t dumb luck. It hadn’t been Will. Bandits aren’t always overtly clumsy.

How many times had he written off these coincidences to fate without _really_ thinking about them? How many times had he allowed Merlin to fool him into believing his role as the idiot when he so often seeks his sound advice? Merlin’s no fool—that’s just the part he’s been forced to play in order to hide under his father’s regime. But the sacrifices and risks he’s made…even just being _here_ in this room is dangerous for him.

“It’s been you.” Arthur breathes. “All this time...”

“There’s always been magic protecting you.” Merlin speaks in the same near-whisper Arthur does.

Arthur places his hand on Merlin’s shoulder—for what reason he can only guess. It's probably his imagination but he feels sparks ignite in his stomach when he makes contact. As if their magic is connected.

Something shifts in the room.

“I’ve never really been in any danger, have I? I’ve been safer. With magic.”

“Yes.”

Arthur’s hand doesn’t leave his shoulder. He means to move it away but it inches forward—just enough to brush the skin on Merlin’s neck. Merlin shivers and neither man makes a comment on it. Merlin subconsciously licks his lips and Arthur can’t help but watch as he swallows the motion down, his Adam’s apple bobbing with it. Belatedly, Arthur realizes he’s been staring and forces his gaze upwards.

Blue eyes meet his and in them he’s given perfect clarity.

Arthur’s always been impulsive.

He presses his lips to Merlin’s and after the usual jolt of kissing someone new, Arthur marvels at how…ordinary it feels. Merlin’s a sorcerer and Arthur’s the Prince of Camelot and he expected fireworks and butterflies he can hardly contain, and yet he’s not disappointed. Merlin’s lips are soft and pliant and he can feel their chests brush where Merlin melts into him and perhaps the exciting thing is the fact that it feels like he’s done this before. Like it’s what he should have always been doing. Like a piece of his world has finally found its way back into place.

They break apart after several long, _long_ moments and Arthur can already feel the heat in his cheeks before he opens his eyes and has to see that cheeky grin.

“Arthur, I—”

“Before you say anything stupid, I want to thank you.” He’s blushing furiously and turns away, pretending to sort things around his room since Merlin can’t be bothered to do his job. He should not be this flustered. He shouldn’t be flustered at all. It’s _Merlin_!

“Oh, is that all that was? An unconventional thank you? Okay.”

“No! That wasn’t—” Arthur spins so fast and hates that he loves the sight that greets him. Merlin’s absolutely ridiculous ‘innocent’ face as he shrugs off what just happened because he feels like being annoying.

“You’re right. If it was supposed to be a thank you, it would’ve been better.”

“Been better? I’ll have you know—”

“It’s okay, Arthur, really. You don’t have to prove yourself.”

It’s a challenge if Arthur’s ever heard one. He pulls Merlin back to him and they kiss again.

Just a few more times, of course.

After all, it’s Arthur’s reputation on the line.


End file.
